


Where One Begins (And Two Ends)

by apathaestetical



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Porn with minimal Plot, Switching, Top Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 05:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathaestetical/pseuds/apathaestetical
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are fuck buddies. With some feelings.





	Where One Begins (And Two Ends)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be smut, purely (or sinfully, might I say) PWP, but it turned into an ejaculation of feelings instead. ENJOY!

 

It starts with one look. 

 

One simple passing of the eyes, regardless of the rifts and obstacles that may come between--when gray meets green, no words are needed because the real communication happens with every touch of skin on skin, shuddering breaths, and unbidden noises of pleasure. 

 

That is the usual between Harry Potter and his once sworn enemy, Draco Malfoy. These days he doesn't know what to call the two of them.  Drinking buddies that more often than not find their company under the sheets? Or does the title work acquaintances that have mutual agreement when it comes to sexual preferences seem less obscene? Whichever of the other hundred variations of these "labels" Harry comes up with, it all falls down to that one common denominator: sex. 

 

Maybe, in much simpler and less drama-inducing terms, what they can call each other are fuck-buddies. And rightfully so with how spectacular their performance is in bed, leaving the other almost completely mindless with pleasure. That was what they are: strictly people with a bottomless need for the other's body. 

 

At least that is what Harry thinks when Draco is inside him. 

 

This is nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, he repeats. But then in some quiet, ignored moments between those weak claims, he sees something that makes him think otherwise. Like how gentle Malfoy is when pushing himself inside Harry, inch by inch while his arms quiver a little as they trap Harry's head, his breath hot but soothing as he whispers so good  _ Potter, nothing else is as good as you, want to feel this forever, Potter, Potter, Ha _ \-- onto the skin between Harry's neck and clavicle. He doubts the promises they shakenly agreed to during that first night; the promise of "This will only be about sex, Potter," and "I wouldn't have you any other way, Malfoy." Because when they move together, their eyes never shut even between sudden outbursts of pleasure. And between those moments they blink, there exist words that Harry is not sure Malfoy can see and comprehend in his eyes. Hell, even he himself doesn't know what sentences and meaning will come out of those unknown words. All he knows that from just having sex, they continue to cross a line that they can never return to.

 

It doesn't help that they have reached a point where Harry starts to sort the kinds of sex they have. That's probably normal for sex-mates, or fuck-buddies, or whatever the fuck they are. They will not keep up with the sex if they find themselves doing the same thing over and over again. Where's the excitement in there? Still, it unsettles Harry that what they have is not even the kind of classification of sex that people of such a relationship like them should have.

Instead of bracketing their sex lives into experimenting and trying out stuff, the kind of sex they have falls on quite peculiar categories. For one, they have the I'm Frustrated at that Fucking Bitch of A Secretary sex. With Draco's job as a crime and law consultant for the Aurors, paperwork and intensive immersion to cases are musts. It is not a one man job, which evidently results to him hiring a secretary. Which is the cause of 90% of Draco's head aches with how efficient the secretary is at being inefficient. And when Draco is frustrated, he needs release. That release is found between Harry's legs, most of the time. 

 

Then there are the I'm Physically Starved sex. This one Harry initiates almost all of the time. Merlin knows the two of them have upbringings that in some ways repressed physical affection and genuine care, but between them, it's Harry who's had it worse. Harry believes this is better than falling into his depressive episodes. At times when he needs that assurance for who he is and was, Draco is there to push away his Firewhiskey bottles, then proceedingly push him onto the nearest horizontal surface. 

 

There are much more kinds of sex catalogued in Harry's mind. And in the one year and counting that they continue this charade, the list continues to grow. Aloud, Harry tells Malfoy that his favorites are the occasional sex. The ones where they celebrate something, whether it is a birthday, or a promotion, or the finally, The Secretary is Gone occasion. Sex during those times are hurried, loud, and just happy, for lack of better word. But in Harry's mind, the ones he cherishes the most are the sex where Draco is angry. Angry at the injustice of it all, at the world, at Harry Potter himself, at that guy or girl who was clearly and disgustingly flirting with Harry, at another girl or boy Harry went home with that night they were scheduled to fuck, at that guy he went home with the next week because Harry was being fucking stupid and kept working overtimes at the Ministry. 

 

Somehow, this kind of anger reminds Harry of who Draco was to him. The original Draco he grew up taunting and fighting. Not for some perverse reasons. The angry sex makes Harry grounded, makes him see more than the pale white skin that goes on for miles, the relentlessly flawless hair of the man, or the plumpness of his soft yet sinful lips. It makes him see Draco and all those emotions bottled up within him. Also, those are the sex where afterwards, Draco will just cling to Harry and make sure he gets as much skin on Harry's and promptly pass out in a peaceful sleep after. 

 

But if Harry if really being honest with himself, any kind of sex there is, as long as it's with Draco, he already loves it. 

 

Tonight, however, marks the anniversary since they decided that they will be much more beneficial individuals to each other if sex is involved. And right now, there is none of the sex that Harry has become accustomed to in those twelve months. Tonight their coupling is something new and different.

 

It does start with a look. 

 

Harry closes the door to his apartment and sees Malfoy in the middle of the living room, looking lost, that is until his eyes found Harry's. And everything else passes in a blur. 

Harry discards his case files and untangles his scarf and robes. Draco is too busy trailing kisses onto Harry's neck, jaw, cheeks, eyes, forehead, neck again, collar bones, over and over again. Harry chuckles at the small groan of impatience from Draco when Harry has just began pushing one button after another of his shirt, slowly. "There, there, we'll get there," he murmurs, smiling at the tick in Draco's scowl. 

 

"Oh yeah? And how do you suppose we'll get there when you refuse to move as fast as an elf presented with clothing?" Draco grunts, but he remains to praise Harry's skin with kisses and nips.

 

"Hermione will not be proud if you continue to use elves as insults," Harry says, breath coming in short burst at every scrape of Draco's teeth on his neck. "But I might just let that slip by if you do all the work. All the kind of work you want with me."

 

Draco pauses, pushing himself with one hand on the door to scowl even more at Harry. "How is it that you can make me lose my boner with one word, then quickly turn me on in the next second?"

 

Harry stares, not answering. The small twitch in his mouth gave his amusement away, which Draco does not fail to see. Smiling, Harry accepts the lips that finally slides onto his. They kiss languidly and noisily, teeth clashing  and tongues lapping in a fervid dance. "But seriously," Draco says as he bites at Harry's lower lip, "If you fucking mention Granger again while we're fucking, I will suck you off so hard you'll faint and sleep for the next twenty-four hours."

 

Harry encircles his arms around Draco's neck and pulls him back for a kiss. "Mmm, that doesn't sound much like a threat." 

 

"Not until you die of extreme pleasure, that is."

 

Harry just chuckles between kisses.

 

"What's funny, Potter?"

 

Harry pulls away and eyes Draco. "That you have the audacity to scold me for taking so long to get naked when you're the one who's fully clothed."

 

Draco rolls his eyes and within ten seconds has removed every single clothing in his body. He glares daggers at Harry, and says, "Happy now?"

 

Harry’s gaze follows the path his hands take as they travel from Draco's shoulders to his toned chest down his firm torso then up to his shoulders and neck again. "I do remember telling you that you'll do all the work, didn't I?"

 

Draco sighs and in one swoop takes Harry's legs to wrap them around his waist. Instinctively, Harry wraps his arms around Draco and begins to kiss the sensitive skin behind Draco's ear. "You're such a lazy oaf," Draco complains, walking to the direction of Harry's bedroom. Harry says nothing, because Draco's statement is true, and continues to lavish Draco's smooth baby skin with wet kisses.

 

Once they reach the bedroom, Draco carelessly tosses Harry onto the bed, which made Harry squeal "You fucking brute.” Draco quickly follows, hovering above Harry, smirking, as he takes Harry's lips in another battle of lips and tongues and teeth. They kiss for a long while, sometimes rubbing groins but whenever Harry gets too frisky and impatient Draco will pull away.

 

Minutes after, Harry is fed up. "Come on, stop teasing, Malfoy!"

 

"Patience, young padawan," Draco replies, silently chuckling as he kisses Harry's lips after every word.

 

Harry groaned. "Star Wars has no place in this bed! God, I shouldn't have introduced sci-fi to you!"

 

"Believe you are saying the truth,I do not."

 

Harry pushes Draco's mouth off him to give him a glare. He holds Draco's smirking, smug, asshole face with his hands. "Is the offer to die from a blowjob still up?" 

 

Draco answers with more kisses but this time he moves down, lower. Harry sighs, squirming slightly at every button removed and every kiss that follows. When he moves his hands from Draco's hair to help Draco undress him, Draco snatches his wrists and pins them above his head. "Nuh-uh-uh. I thought I was in charge?"

 

Harry huffs but let Draco have his fun. Soon all buttons are freed and Draco plasters kisses and bites all over his torso, teasing him as Draco's lips lingered far too longer on his hip bones and the happy trail on his stomach. Out of nowhere, Draco's hands are on that space between skin and trousers, and then everything covering Harry down there are ripped off and thrown into a corner behind Draco. Harry doesn't even have the time to complain that he has that just one work trousers because the other is still in repair because of the same thing Draco did just now, when Draco's mouth proceeds to engulf his entire length. Harry feels his entire leg twitch at the sudden warmth and tightness his hard cock is gifted with. 

 

"Fuck! Warn a man, will you?" 

 

Draco laughs and the vibration around Harry makes his grip on Draco's silky hair tighten. Slowly, Draco finds a rhythm, both his hands and mouth working in tandem to give Harry a non-stop pleasure. The room echoes litany of curses and Malfoy and calls to gods. At one point, Harry looks down and finds Draco watching him, eyes intense even when they begin to water. Groaning, he let one hand caress Draco's face, cupping the hollowed cheek that stretches at every pass of Harry's cock inside his mouth. Draco's eyes close for a second as he leans onto Harry's touch, but then his eyes return to Harry's and nothing else matters.

 

With a slick pop, Draco releases Harry's cock and glides above Harry to kiss him. This time their rutting is not hindered by clothes. They exchange saliva and a couple of indistinguishable words as they kiss. Now they were both stripped and bare, in almost all essence of the words, Harry thinks. This time his chant of this is nothing, this is nothing, is followed by not really, not really, and Harry believes it. At least on his end, the thing can be said to be true. 

 

The promise he made broke with not even a struggle the moment Draco first slept in, curling his body and molding himself into the spaces in Harry's body that Harry never knew could be filled. For the rest of the months after that, he lived in denial. They still acted the same after that. Draco's weekends are Harry's, Harry's weekends are Draco's, the rest of the week is for the rest of the world. And sometimes, both of them are impatient and hungry that it doesn't matter if their legs open up for someone else. They are not exclusive, not sworn to each other. They are free.

 

But Harry knows that he is really only ever free if he's with Draco. And so he stops sleeping with the others, lying with every piece of him when Draco asks him about his week. Sometimes, Harry thinks Draco will say something about it, with the way Harry lewdly lies through his mouth about his so-called sexcapades and Draco's face growing stony by the second. But then he smirks and counters Harry's story with an equally ridiculous anecdote of his own sexual encounter. Sometimes, Harry thinks that should they receive Pinocchio's curse, their noses would have reached a long, long, and lonely mile by now. 

 

But now, maybe, Harry wishes, that their lying noses shorten in moments like this. Draco kisses like a man stuck to the ocean floor, chasing after the bubble of air that escapes him second by second. His mouth is desperate, wild, and demanding, but this exactly what Harry wants from him. There is nothing in the way he holds Harry that means the opposite of they promised a year ago. For that moment, they aren't lying at all.

 

Draco breaks free to pull at the drawer where Harry stores his condoms. Harry watches with half lidded eyes as Draco tears into the packet with his teeth, grinning as Harry moves to grab the lube at the other bedside table. Draco stops his hands from reaching the bottle and Harry, confused, squeaks, "I haven't prepared yet!"

 

Draco just shakes his head, grinning widely with the condom hanging between his teeth. He takes Harry's hands between his and moves to attach the condom on the tips of Harry's cock, letting his mouth push the rest of the plastic onto the whole length. Harry groans loudly and watches as Draco pulled back, that haughty smirk ever present. 

 

"Dra-Malfoy-What--"

 

Draco puts one finger onto Harry's mouth as he straddles Harry, taking Harry's cock behind him and lining it onto his entrance. "Shush, love. You don't want to hurt yourself by thinking too much about what's happening." 

 

Carefully, Draco sinks lower, the tip slipping in easily. Both groan in chorus. With arms beside Harry's head, Draco leans forward to give Harry soft, small kisses. Minute by minute, he moves an inch, pausing to adjust, then continuing to go lower. Through all this, he whispers, "that's it, baby, take all of me. I wanted to surprise you so I prepared a while ago. While I was waiting for you. Oh, you liked that, huh? Hmm, you feel good in me. I feel full, full of you. Ugh, that's it, yes, yes, uh, you like that? Good, good, I will give it to you then. Just take it. Take me, yes!" 

 

Harry loses the rest of Draco's mumbling because his mind is exploding. There is never an agreement when it comes to positions in bed. Somehow, after their first night, it is established that Harry bottoms, period. It's not a matter of who dominates who. It's just that Harry likes and wants to bottom so that ends whatever discussion they should have had. He hasn't even thought of Draco bottoming until this exact moment that it is happening. Well, that has become the only thought in his mind. 

 

Soon after, Draco is done bottoming out. Their loud exhales and inhales hang in the moment as they stay still, getting their bodies used to the feeling of each other. Draco's hot breath on Harry's neck make Harry shiver, while Harry's fingers mindlessly fumbling with the ends of Draco's hair by his nape in turn makes Draco shiver. They remained in that position for a minute, but soon Draco is lifting himself up, whispering, "Don't you dare look away," and settling his hands on Harry's chest and begins moving. 

 

They set up a pace that results in lots of swearing and groaning. Harry fixes his hands on Draco's lean hips, helping Draco bounce with ease. His heels are dug into the sheets as he thrusts his butt up to meet Draco in the middle. Draco is moving relentlessly. So is his mouth. He hovers over Harry's face and kisses, hungry and persistent. The rest of his dirty-sweet talk is reduced to just Potter, Potter, Potter.

 

Harry knows that they wanted to make this longer but with every thrust and kiss, the probability of that lessens. Their movements quicken, less smooth and more animalistic. Spots are being hit, feelings intensifies, and everything is lost with just their screams of Malfoy and Potter. It doesn't surprise Harry when his orgasm came, but the intensity of it shocks him. He has never felt pleasure that almost transcends his soul to heaven at that moment. His whole body spasms and his throat feels sore with how loud he screamed. Draco follows quickly after, whimpering as Harry's hand found his neglected cock and watching as cum splashed onto Harry's chest and chin, and some on his stomach. They ride out their orgasms until neither of them could hold themselves up and they drop with a grunt onto the mattress. Draco is the first to move, shifting ever so lightly to rest his forehead against Harry. With a satisfied sigh, he closes his eyes and whispers, "Be a doll and--"

 

Harry interrupts. " _ Scourgify _ . I know already."

Soon after, their breathings match and echo each other. Harry finds Draco's hand and lightly let them tangle with each other. The air is stale and stinks of sex but it is also heavy. Somehow, Harry knows that the moment is about to end. That the things they have been throwing carelessly behind them has now reached where they are. All the hidden glances, unnecessary touches, the staying ins, the breakfasts in bed, the talking at late in the morning when the two of them found that sleep was not welcome that night, the cuddling that they have even when no sex leads up to it, that one time Harry ended up in St. Mungo's after a dangerous mission for a week and even if no one told Harry he knew that Draco stayed there with him every night and held his hand. There are so many things done but never said and it's because of this that they are at a predicament. How can they even put into words what they cannot describe?

 

It is Draco who figured it out, obviously. One word. It is one word and they have stepped off a cliff. "Harry," he says. Just that and nothing else, but Harry understands. With every single part of him, Harry feels and understands and lets go. 

 

It starts with one look, but no one ever said that it will end with one look as well. Draco's eyes are wide and unblinking as they stare at Harry, and despite a year's worth of dirty and wild sex, this is the first time Harry has ever felt so naked and open. He smiles shakily as Draco's hand found his cheek and he knows what to say. 

 

"Draco."

 

It starts with one look, but there is no definite end. However, in the long journey this start made happen, there will come a time that it's not just one look, but two smiles, two touches, two hearts, and two lives, all tangled up together.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
